


Barefoot and Pregnant

by kuonji



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Identity Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"If you're the maid, what am I? Your little girlfriend?" </em>Jack and Daniel have a tiff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barefoot and Pregnant

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/12842.html>

Jack untied the cooking apron from around his waist and threw it over its hook in the wall. Picking up the two platters from the counter -- loaded with steaming ribs, corn on the cob, and rice pilaf -- he paused to look down at himself. He snorted.

"When we got together, I never thought _I'd_ be the one doing the barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen routine," he remarked.

Daniel, table set and already nose deep in his book again, raised an inquiring eyebrow before even looking his way. As Jack settled their dinner on the table, he marked his place and set the oversized paperback down. "Something you want to tell me about that weight you've been gaining?" he asked.

Jack scowled, sucking in his gut reflexively. "You know what I mean."

"Well, no, not really." Daniel made a show of spreading his napkin over his lap. "Did you mean that you expected _me_ to be doing the charmingly cliched 'routine' you mentioned?"

"Forget it. It was just a joke." A dead one, now. Why did Daniel always have to be so damn sensitive?

"I didn't appreciate it."

Sensitive was right. Ha! Scholarly, clean-shaven, bleeding-heart Dr. Jackson. Yeah, if Jack had picked, he would have expected Daniel to be the woman in their relationship. "All I'm saying is, you could stand to cook dinner more than twice a week," he snapped. At the least, Daniel could very well pull his own weight. Jack was nobody's housewife.

"I would, but you don't like my cooking. I believe you've said that on numerous occasions." Daniel stabbed up a rib with his fork and began stripping it with a steak knife. He wasn't exactly cocking a pinky, but let's face it. Who the hell eats ribs with a knife and fork?

Jack rolled up his sleeves and defiantly grabbed up his own food with both hands. "That's because you never make anything edible."

"That's unfair."

Not if you'd ever had Daniel's cooking. When Daniel worked late, his typical idea of a labor-intensive meal was thawing the waffles before popping them in the toaster oven. He seemed to have never grown out of some of his atrocious college habits.

"Let's go over what you've made." Jack licked off the sauce on one hand so he could use it to illustrate. "Boiled hot dogs with ketchup." He raised one finger. "Deli turkey and peanut salad. No dressing." He raised another. "Toast and jam. For Friday dinner."

"I didn't have time to get anything together. You said toast was fine," Daniel protested. Jack shot him a look that could freeze oil.

If you thought Daniel's weekday meals were strange, just wait until the weekend.

"Fried noodles with ginger and lamb curry," he continued. "Some sort of fish soup with three kinds of bread that I can't pronounce the names of. Bright orange drumsticks and yellow rice. And let's not forget the sour yogurt you thought would go so well with our perfectly good beef brisket."

Daniel had grown stiff and tight-lipped. "I thought you liked the tandoori chicken," he said.

Jack had, but that wasn't the point. " _Orange_ ," he reiterated.

"If we want boring food, we could stay on base." Daniel sneered as he added, "Or we could just keep eating your cooking."

Now that was just low. "Do you do it on purpose?" Jack demanded. "Are you just trying to poison me so you don't have to cook anymore?"

"Yes, Jack, of course. You've caught me out! I spend my Saturdays searching for recipes and looking for spices and materials from out-of-the-way markets just so I can get out of cooking. What a genius plan."

"It's not as if these are microwaved," Jack returned, gesturing at their plates. These ribs had been marinating since last night. A recipe from his granddad, this had used to be Jack's comfort food.

"Good for you! I'll have a plaque made." Daniel framed a rectangle of air with his fingers. "O'Neill Deluxe. Drown meat in sauce. Throw meat in oven. Gourmet taste guaranteed."

"Now, that's--"

"While we're on the subject of housework," the little shit cut him off, "how many times have you done the laundry since I moved in?"

"You like to do the laundry," Jack accused. He couldn't believe this.

"I said that I 'didn't mind' doing it, but it wouldn't kill you to wash out your own gravy stains. Don't look at me the next time you look like an idiot in front of the General."

"What?" Jack didn't even remember that. Leave it to Daniel to get worked up over something trivial.

"And I buy the toilet paper. I do the yard work. Hell, the last two months, I've even done the bills."

"Well, if you'd tell the nice Jaffa to go easy on me when it's the end of the month, I'm sure they'd understand! Besides, you like the yard work." He couldn't count how many times Daniel had gushed about how nice it was to have a back yard.

"Yes, of course, because I like 'digging in the dirt', right?"

"Oh, for crying out loud." That'd been a joke, too. "You want to start drawing lines here? Fine. I vacuum. I straighten the closets. I make the bed. I clean the toilets. You make so much of the mess around here, it's like I'm your goddamn maid."

"If you're the maid, what am I? Your little girlfriend?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Roses in my jeep, Jack? Chocolates on Valentine's? Our one-month anniversary, you picked me up in your car and took me out to that florid restaurant. The one that you chose and made reservations at, without even telling me."

"Well, since you ordered dinner for me, I'd say we're even." Jack burned anew, remembering the waiter's snide, knowing expression.

"You always get the steak and lobster linguini. If you had more imagination maybe I wouldn't try to save your breath."

Jack shoved his plate away. His stomach was tightened up too much for eating. "Just because we're together doesn't mean you get to say what goes in my house."

Daniel folded his napkin meticulously and slapped it onto the tabletop across from him. "I can pick up my own checks and pay my own rent. You want me out of here tomorrow? I can pack tonight."

"What is your problem?" Jack was livid. How dare Daniel threaten him. Holding in any words he knew he would regret, he stood up and grabbed both their plates. "You done?" he snapped.

"I'll wash," Daniel returned.

"Don't bother."

"I'll do it."

"I said I would."

"Let me have the damned plates."

"Stop arguing with me!"

Daniel threw up his hands and stalked away, presumably to the den.

Jack tidied up with fiercely economical movements. Wiping down the table, he caught sight of Daniel's book, forgotten in the corner. He picked it up -- briefly fantasizing thrusting it into the garbage disposal -- and took it to the living room, tossing it on top of the pile there.

He dropped himself into the sofa and turned on the TV.

Mid-way through the second period, Daniel huffed in with a notebook and pen. Without looking at Jack, he sprawled into the far corner of the couch and started scratching away.

Jack kept half an eye on the game and the rest of his attention on trying not to stare at his lover.

Daniel was curled up, glasses low over his nose. There was the slightest crease to his forehead, his eyebrows twitching every now and again. He'd pause sometimes to touch his lips with his pen or the knuckle of his writing hand, or he'd lick his lips, before continuing to write.

Despite his scholarly look, Daniel was a physical man. His nimble fingers handled firearms alongside his team, and he was never afraid to get dirty for a mission. Jack had once called him 'geek', but he was intimately familiar with the planes of muscle hidden by his loose shirt, and he knew the strength of those legs currently folded up on the couch, the expanse of the shoulders hunched over their work.

There was no question about it. Daniel was one hundred percent male.

By no contortion of the imagination could Jack fit Daniel out with a frilly apron, a dustbuster, and a den mother uniform.

So what did it say about Jack that he seemed to be filling that role himself? Better and better every day.

"Are you actually watching the game?"

Jack glanced at his companion, startled, and momentarily resentful of the break in their cold war. "Yeah."

"Because the rival team's made two goals already, and you haven't said a word." Daniel gestured at the television, never lifting his gaze from his notebook.

"Well, shit." Jack tried to find it in himself to care, if only so Daniel wouldn't think he had the ability to get under Jack's skin so easily.

Daniel didn't say anymore, and Jack kept his eyes off of him. The Hawks lost spectacularly, which Jack thought only fitting. Some cartoon about robot ninja primates started up, and Jack turned the volume up and down, bored but not ready to go to bed. He didn't want to sleep alone, and he dreaded the awkwardness of the alternative.

A shadow loomed over him. Jack looked up. Daniel had abandoned his notebook.

"Jack." He pushed his glasses up his nose, then put his hands astride his hips. His mouth hung open, and the frown lines pushed up on his forehead.

"Daniel."

Jack fought the urge to stand, to even them up. If he were honest with himself, he'd always been selfishly glad that his lover was shorter than he was. He'd never dated a woman taller than himself, and he didn't think he could stand a man towering over him, not one he was... being intimate with.

Stretching down to share a kiss and putting his arms over his lover's shoulders when they hugged -- familiar touches like that kept Jack grounded.

"Jack..." Daniel whipped off his glasses and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Why does everything have to be a fight between us?"

"You're asking me?"

Daniel's lips thinned down. He set his glasses on the coffee table, then stood in front of Jack, legs apart. Before Jack could puzzle out what he had in mind, he moved forward onto the sofa. He straddled Jack's lap, a shockingly intimate -- and feminine -- position.

He leaned forward slowly and nosed the hair above Jack's right ear. Jack held his breath.

"I'm not used to having a boyfriend," was breathed into his ear.

Jack's fingers convulsed around Daniel's waist. "Me, either." He dug his forehead into Daniel's sweet shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to choke the words out, the ones that would repay Daniel for being forced to be the generous one. Again.

Daniel always came to him, and he knew it wasn't fair.

So he wanted to be the first. He wanted to admit that he was uncomfortable at times and shit-scared out of his mind at others. This thing they had. He'd never understood it when it was other people. It seemed even more mystifying -- not less -- now that it was them.

But he wanted to tell Daniel that he loved him nonetheless, that he could sweep floors and cook dinners as long as Daniel was with him. He wanted to tell his lover that he was terrified by that, by the thought that loving Daniel would make him someone that he didn't want to be.

"Actually," Daniel said, a propros of nothing, "the chocolates were good. I like being pampered. I like cooking for you, too, when you let me. You know I do." Daniel sat back and looked Jack in the eye. "I love what we have here. Even when it freaks me out."

Jack groaned, feeling three shades of a coward. He hadn't been able to be first after all.

But he could offer this: "I like to feel you inside me," he admitted out loud for the first time. He watched Daniel unflinchingly, as those blue irises gave way to black. "When you-- When you push inside. It feels so good. I want you to just pull out and push back in, again and again."

Daniel groaned in answer, starting a subtle rocking. The fabric of their clothes rasped against each other in harsh breaths.

"I like to be... I like... I like you to..." Jack couldn't finish.

"Shh, Jack, it's okay." Soothing fingers stroked his head in understanding.

He liked to be owned. To be penetrated and forced open and impaled and controlled. He liked Daniel to claim him, to use him hard like a man does his whore. He liked Daniel to love him, passionate, like a man does his wife.

They fell together more than they kissed, their lips mashed into each other hard, fighting even as they were making love. It was cramped and blistering fast, and Jack was too old for this. "Not here," he gasped, feeling the strain with every thrust. "Not here," he was still moaning even as he started coming in quick spurts.

"Just a little..." Daniel said, moving Jack's hand over himself. "Squeeze, now. Oh now, Jack! Unhhh, god."

Jack could feel Daniel pulse, alive and full in both their hands. It was beautiful and erotic, a handsome, thoroughly masculine man reaching his climax. Jack couldn't believe that there'd been a time when he hadn't realized how much he wanted this.

Daniel slumped against him. The blare of the television was the only sound they heard for long minutes. Jack squirmed. "My back is killing me," he groused. It was only half true, and Daniel called him on it, the know-it-all.

"You can stand a few more minutes."

There was just one thing to say to that. "You know what this means?"

"What?" Daniel asked, his voice heavy with post-coital bliss.

"You have more laundry to do, woman!"

Jack laughed out loud even as Daniel seized him by the hair and mashed his face into the sofa.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
> [All The Right Reasons](http://community.livejournal.com/jackslashdaniel/448962.html) (Stargate SG-1), by kuonji  
> [Your Wish Is My Command](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/18491.html) (Stargate SG-1), by kuonji  
> [The Dinner](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/14313.html) (Stargate SG-1), by kuonji  
> [Confirmation](http://sidlj.livejournal.com/145344.html?thread=2619840#t2619840) (Stargate SG-1), by Sid


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